Page 56 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
“The shot goes down easier, huh?” She met his gaze. Even his teeth blurred together and she could no longer see the space between them. “Any reason you didn’t mention that about five shots ago?” Sloane asked wryly.
Drawing a deep breath for courage, she slammed the glass and consumed the drink, coughing from the fizz and bubbles until her eyes teared. But she had to admit the man had a point. “That was much better,” she said when she could finally speak.
“My turn.” Kendall laughed, high pitched and loud enough to pierce Sloane’s eardrums. “First the questions. Where did Samson say he was?”
With all they’d consumed, Sloane was amazed they’d been able to keep their focus on needed conversation. She owed Kendall and she’d personally deliver coffee to her tomorrow as a thank-you—if she could lift her own head off the pillow.
Somehow the two women had reached a silent understanding. In order to keep either one of them from getting too drunk, they alternated questions, hence alternated shots. Sloane couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if she’d imbibed alone. She’d probably be passed out under the table by now.
Earl shrugged. “Samson didn’t say where he wuz. Then again he never says much. Never calls either, so I was surprised to hear from him,” he said again.
Sloane knew there was a message in there somewhere, but she was too woozy to figure out what. She tipped her head to one side and immediately regretted the quick motion. When the dizziness cleared, she forced herself to think. Samson had called Earl when he’d never called before. She wondered if he’d even had a telephone prior to the explosion.
“Why’d he call you?” Sloane asked.
“Blondie didn’t drink yet,” Earl said, refusing to answer until Kendall remedied her lapse.
Ernie poured and Sloane sighed, waiting for Kendall to drink so they’d get more answers out of Earl. Once he was satisfied, he did a straight shot of his own and turned back to the subject at hand. “Samson figured I’d heard about his house and wondered if he wuz dead.”
Sloane cringed at the casual way Earl spoke, but at least Samson had someone to call when he’d had trouble. Even if Earl didn’t seem like the warmest guy going, he was Samson’s friend.
“Course I hadn’t heard till he told me. I asked him if I’d inherit if he croaked.” He cackled at his callous joke and she winced. “Samson said it wuz none of my business who got his money, but for my information, he had family who’d inhurt—”
“Inherit, you moron,” Ernie chimed in.
Both Kendall and Sloane laughed, but Earl ignored them, merely glaring at his friend.
Sloane grasped onto Earl’s words and wondered if Samson was being his surly self in his reply to Earl or if he really had family. She wondered if he’d actually been referring to her. Her stomach churned with a combination of fear and hope, the upheaval having nothing to do with the alcohol in her system.
“Samson said I wuzn’t getting a red cent,” Earl continued. “But at least the damn ingrate’s still living.”
Despite her fuzzy brain, Sloane heard a hint of affection in Earl’s voice. She refused to believe she imagined it. Someone had to care whether Samson lived or died, and she had to think this gruff old man was her real father’s friend. After all, everyone needed someone in life who cared about them. Samson deserved to have at least that. A lump formed in her throat and suddenly she felt an intense longing for an emotional connection to another human being. One who cared about her.
Her gaze fell to Chase; she met his heated stare and lingered. His expression was still dark and he held up one hand, indicating she had five minutes left. Worry was obvious in his eyes and Sloane knew her heart didn’t lie. He cared. For her.
She tugged his shirt tighter around her, feeling its warmth and accepting the sudden tide of arousal as a natural circumstance of falling in love with him.
“Hey, lady.” Ernie tapped a bottle on the table. “Do you know who’d inherit instead of Earl?” he asked, interrupting Sloane’s thoughts.
And boy, what thoughts those had been. Love? She shivered. Alcohol had a way of distorting reality. She couldn’t possibly be in love with Chase Chandler. Could she?
“Hello? An answer would be nice. We’ve been giving you all the answers you want, but you’re holding out on us.” Earl folded his scrawny arms across his chest, impatient and annoyed.
“I don’t know who Samson would leave his money to,” Sloane said.
Which brought up another question. Did Samson really have money? If so, why continue to live like a poor man with no income? She forced a stare back to the old men at the table, the only ones who’d have any answers. “I’d heard Samson had no family.”
